Passing Grade
by roodlz
Summary: If anyone asked Tony Stark what his life was like, he'd say that he's a regular sixteen year old kid. If anyone bothered to ask. The reality? No one needed to ask; Tony was the stupidest kid at SHIELD High School. He's the shame of the Stark line, and the bane of his teacher's existence. His life is awful, but nothing could be worse than the alternative if he told the truth.
1. Duplicity

**A/N: **Hello everyone!

Here we are with another unfinished series that I couldn't keep myself from posting. _Passing Grade_ is one work that I've been in love with for awhile. It's full of teenage angst and hurt!Tony. Plus, it's a highschool AU. Bonus points!

This chapter is a baby chapter, meant to be a lead in to the rest. I've got some 17k words already written, so posting will be staggered, most likely with weekly updates until I catch up. A big thanks to my beta **BigTimeHiddlestoner**!

I hope that everyone enjoys this story as much as I do! I love comments, so please be sure to let me know how I'm doing!

*This is the third time posting this story. Hopefully this one works!*

* * *

Tony Stark thought that high school was really, really boring. He dragged his feet through four periods of fuck all each and every day, then went home to be ignored. Rinse and repeat.

Each day he got on the bus (because kids with average intellect aren't allowed to waste the family driver's time), and sat in the very back. Ear buds in, he watched the city flash by, a blur of colors and faces and buildings that served as a boring backdrop to a boring commute.

The other kids knew not to fuck with him; just because he was stupid, didn't mean that he couldn't beat the shit out of somebody.

The bus ride didn't take long. Half an hour, from where the Stark Mansion was to the upscale high school that Howard had picked out.

"Just because you're stupid doesn't mean you have to go and learn to be a thug at the closest city school."

_Thanks, Dad._

When the bus pulled up to the sidewalk, Tony waited until everyone was off the bus, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and trudging up the aisle. The bus driver, a lady named Sarah Rogers, was one of Tony's favorite people in the world. She was a part time bus driver and a nurse the rest of the time, and her son Steve was in a lot of Tony's classes, though he didn't really know Tony existed.

Tony stopped next to her, smiling brightly.

"G'morning, Ms. Rogers."

"Good morning, Tony," Sarah said in reply, smiling genially. She passed him a sandwich and an apple, and Tony blushed, like he always did.

Howard wouldn't allow the chefs to cook Tony anything, and he didn't keep the kitchen stocked either. He had a credit card that always held a small balance, but it was hard riding his bike to buy groceries over half an hour away. Somewhere along the way, Sarah had noticed. While it was difficult to accept her charity, her smiles made up for it, and Tony didn't starve.

"Go and be the best you can be," she said, a touch of seriousness in her tone before she shooed him off the bus.

Tucking his lunch into his backpack, Tony stared up at the school, feeling a twinge of guilt. Sarah always told him to be the best he could be, but this...this was not it.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome!_


	2. Dr Banner's Awesome Lecture Box

**A/N:** Hello again! Second update in a row because that first chapter was waaaaay tiny. We're starting up an insight into how Tony's days normally go, though we'll be wishing for these kind of days later, because I'm incredibly mean to Tony. Poor baby.

Next update won't be for awhile, but I hope you enjoy teenage Tony and how much he annoys poor Bruce. The man deserves a prize for dealing with Tony's crap.

As always, a big thank you to my beta **BigTimeHiddlestoner**! Comments are love!

* * *

Mornings at SHIELD High School were very routine. Students flooded the cafeteria, either for breakfast or to wait until the first warning bell sounded at eight o'clock. It was loud, obnoxious, and gave Tony a headache. So he kept his earbuds in and skated around the administrators, until he could slip into a side hallway and head towards the shop classrooms.

Ho Yinsen was the only teacher who didn't give Tony looks of disappointment whenever he walked into a room. They had an understanding: Tony didn't ruin any equipment and be a loud mouthed punk, and Mr. Yinsen didn't tell anybody that Tony was good with his hands.

The back workshop, where Yinsen's office and personal workbench was hidden, was riddled with Tony's creations. He liked building and coding robots, as evidenced by 'Dummy', a repurposed Roomba with a claw that was oddly affectionate. For a robot.

Tony didn't like people to know that he could build things. He didn't like people to know that he wasn't some stupid failure, Howard Stark's genetic travesty.

The truth of it was, Tony was really, really fucking smart.

Tony emerged from his engineering fugue when the end of first period bell rang. He'd skipped out on gym again (because who needs Steve Fucking Rogers and his perfect body and great mom? Not Tony) and had holed up in the shop.

Yinsen turned a blind eye, and ignored the occasional yelps from a soldering iron while he worked through his free period.

"You'll be late for chemistry if you don't get moving," Yinsen warned, adjusting his glasses while waiting for Tony to 'surface for air'.

Tony's head shot up at that, and he hurriedly crammed all of his circuit boards and tools into a plastic container, stuffing it in a cabinet. He gathered his bookbag and skidded out into the classroom, where some of Yinsen's students were already gathering for their class.

"Hey, Stark! You playing janitor again?" Called Justin Hammer, and Tony itched to go and knock the asshole out. His eye twitched, and he clenched his fists, but he managed to stay his temper. Yinsen gave him an approving nod as he walked by, patting his shoulder before turning to teach the class.

Tony heard Yinsen ordering Justin Hammer to start reciting from the textbook, and he snickered, before jogging down the hallway. Stopping at his locker, he exchanged his bookbag full of odds and ends (gears, relay switches, a PB&J sandwich and an apple) for his chemistry notebook, textbook, his idea binder, and a couple of pens before slamming the door shut and taking off.

Hustling down the nearest set of stairs, Tony swung wide around a corner, not bothering to apologize to Principal Fury for nearly bowling him over.

He dimly registered a, "Slow your punk ass down!" but didn't pay too much attention.

With the door in sight, Tony muttered the end of his mental countdown, "Three, two, one..." and managed to slide into the classroom just as the bell rang.

Dr. Banner looked up from the board, looking as weary and careworn as ever. His brow furrowed when he recognized Tony, and the entire class looked as though they were on the verge of killing him. Very slowly. With dry erase markers.

"Mornin', Dr. B.," Tony said cheerfully, skirting the edge of the room to head towards his seat in the back. He caught the eye of one Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, who shook her head ruefully, but Tony could see the hint of a smile.

Dr. Banner had his 'disappointed scientist' look on again, and Tony felt his teacher's gaze tracking him across the room. It was no secret that Dr. Banner had expected Tony to magically attain genius level intellect upon crossing the threshold of his classroom. He'd kept up hope for two weeks (a record!) and then decided to look at Tony as if he were a specimen that hadn't achieved the desired results.

"Have a seat, Anthony," was the terse reply.

Dr. Banner was already turning back to the board, leaving Tony to drop into his seat at the back. No one really wanted to sit with the stupid kid, so Tony had an entire table to himself. Spreading out his notebooks, Tony opened the black one first (spiral, college ruled) and set to copying the notes Dr. Banner already had written on the board.

Once he was caught up, he opened his idea binder, that was held together with red and gold duct tape. He let Dr. Banner's lecture flow into the box at the back of his mind labeled 'Dr. B's Awesome Lectures', and turned his attention to his personal 'log book'.

Thin tracing paper was nestled into a pocket on the left, with notebook paper locked into the three rings in the middle. On the right was tracing paper he'd finished with, riddled with different portions of designs. His dad had seen it once, and had asked if Tony was considering a career in art. If so, he'd be as shitty at that as he was everything else.

Tony had shrugged off the comment, because he knew that if the paper was stacked just right, the design would become apparent. So, promising himself he'd come back to Dr. Banner's lecture later, Tony immersed himself in his binder, writing out equations and codes . He gradually moved closer and closer to the paper, tongue sticking out between his lips as he concentrated.

A textbook slammed down right next to Tony's ear after some time, causing him to jerk back from his notes and look around at the empty classroom.

"What's happening? Did something blow up? Did I do it?" He queried, surreptitiously shutting his binder and pulling it close.

Dr. Banner shuffled into Tony's field of vision, all Disappointed Scientist with a pinch of What The Fuck.

"Were you even paying attention, Anthony?" He asked, crossing his arms. He looked mad, and it made Tony uneasy. Dr. Banner was his favorite teacher, save for Yinsen, and it was already bad enough that Tony was an epic fail academically.

"I...yes?" Tony offered, smiling nervously.

"Then tell me, what were we discussing in class?"

Tony knew. He really did. In his mind box, Dr. Banner's Awesome Lecture told him that they had been discussing the periodic table, and Tony could list them all off the top of his head, but all he could say was, "Um...Bunsen burner protocols?"

Dr. Banner seemed to have developed a tic in his right eye, and his sigh made Tony feel like a dick.

"You ignored the in-class quiz, which was covered in the lecture material. The best I can give you is partial credit, if you drop by after school and read the chapter, then take a quiz based on that material. Can you do that, or do you have somewhere more important to be?"

His teacher's tone was accusatory, and Tony was painfully reminded that he had a reputation for philandering and throwing his money around on top of being horrifically stupid. Whether or not the rumors were true was one thing, but Dr. Banner seemed pretty sure that Tony was a slut and had other plans for the evening.

In reality, Tony would be going to an empty house, with no food, and a new balance on his credit card for the week.

"No sir. I'll be here after school," Tony promised, pulling his best contrite expression.

Dr. Banner pinched the bridge of his nose, took another deep breath, and then waved Tony on.

"You can leave now, Anthony. Hurry so you're not late to your next period."

Tony nodded, gathering his notebook and binder before shoving away from his table.

"Thanks, Dr. B. I'll be there. Promise," he said with a grin before hurrying out of the classroom.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome!_


	3. Dread Hill

**A/N: **Hello everyone! I want to say a huge thanks to everyone who has favorited/followed. While we're not quite full sail angst, do bear in mind that the story was bumped up to an M rating. When we get to that point, I will mention it in the notes as a fair warning.

Some of the stuff in this chapter is silly stuff I Wiki'd, like the number of representatives/etc. Basically, Tony is being a smartass, but I no longer remember what it was about. Cookies to anyone who spots a movie reference!

As always, a big thank you to my beta **BigTimeHiddlestoner**!

* * *

Tony's third period was the one he hated the most. It was all the 'honors' kids clustered into one room, with a disturbing concentration of assholes. US Government shouldn't have been home to some of the worst moments in Tony's life, but it was.

He wondered what the fuck his old teachers were thinking when they dropped him in all honors classes. He scraped by with B's, usually C's, though it was easy to 'study extra hard' and pull up his grades when he needed to.

Mostly, his presence pissed off the teachers who were there for the kids that 'really wanted to learn'. Tony was only a disruption before class and at the end of class, and kept to himself. He figured that the 'Disappointed Teacher' look had a patent pending, because they were all pros at whipping it out when Tony least expected it.

It kept him awake at night, unable to sleep for the images of sand, sun, and blood and the disappointment of everyone he'd ever met weighing on his shoulders.

His only saving grace was that both Pepper and Rhodey were in class with him. Sometimes, they weren't enough to keep Hammer and his cronies from harassing him, but it went a long way.

Even though he'd stayed a little late in chemistry, Tony still had enough time to go and switch out his chemistry stuff for his government textbook, notebook, and issue of Newsweek that Ms. Hill passed out every Friday to be reviewed through the next week.

Government was on the same floor as his locker, so it was only a short walk before he entered the classroom.

Ms. Hill's desk was in the far corner, and from the door, Tony could see that everyone had split into their cliques. Hammer and his cronies (Ty Stone, Amora Eckerson, Victor Doomsbury) sat in the middle of the room, making it difficult for anyone to escape their attentions. Up front sat Peter Parker and Harry Osborn, Hank McCoy two seats down and looking mildly bored (politics wasn't his thing, apparently.) On the far wall by the window was the 'Blond Trio', consisting of Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Clint Barton, who was currently aiming a rubber band driven paper football at Tony's head.

Tony scowled, but kept his temper as Clint's football smacked him right on the nose. He caught it and stuffed it in his pocket, making his way towards the opposite corner. Clint whined, but Tony couldn't make out what he said as he walked to the back of the classroom. The seat in the back of any room was usually considered Tony's, and in most classes the seats around him would be empty.

Instead of sitting by himself, Tony was flanked by Pepper Potts in front and James 'Rhodey' Rhodes to the right, Tony's best (and sometimes only) friends. Pepper turned around in her seat once Tony sat down, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed.

"You really shouldn't be late to Dr. Banner's class, Tony. You know how he gets."

"Like 'SCIENTIST SMASH!'? When he goes berserk and clears an entire lab?"

"Exactly like that. And then you couldn't even pay attention!"

Tony blushed a bit at that. He hadn't meant to zone out. But he was so close to a breakthrough with his coding, and Dummy the Roomba was only the beginning. Shaking off his excitement for his project, Tony shot for sheepish and knew he'd pulled it off when Pepper's expression softened.

"I'm sorry, Pep. Sometimes it just goes right over my head and I just start to designing birdhouses and shit for shop class," he said with a helpless shrug.

Rhodey looked over, an eyebrow raised.

"'Birdhouses', Tones? Really? I've seen some of the stuff that Mr. Yinsen displays. It is 100% legit, and I know that Hammer isn't responsible. No one spends as much time as you do in there."

Tony shrugged again, feeling a small burst of pride. The stuff Yinsen displayed was just stuff he fiddled with while working through a problem in his head. But his friend's praise meant more than Rhodey could know, so Tony grinned at him.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," he said with a wink.

Rhodey huffed out a laugh, and was about to respond when the bell rang. As one, the entire class shuffled and turned forward, except Tony, who was fiddling with his bookbag. Ms. Hill was a taskmaster, and really fucking scary when she wanted to be, so no one dared to cross her path. Except Tony.

She hated Tony.

So when she barked, "Stark! Front and center!", Tony wasn't really all that surprised.

Tony trudged to the front of the room, shoulders slumped and head bowed. This was the start of Hill's tri-weekly Stark Shaming, and it did not bode well for Tony.

"Stark, why don't you write the three branches of government up on the board?" She said, her voice saccharine sweet and her eyes cold as she handed him a dry erase marker.

Tony wanted to list every US Senator and their pet dog's names up on the board (because that was something he happened to know), but instead he scribbled EXECUTIVE, JUDICIAL, and LEGISLATIVE up on the board. He decided to forgo misspelling, because Hill would eat him alive and make him stand there all class trying to find his error while she went on teaching.

Hill raised an eyebrow when Tony turned to face her, glaring in challenge. She smirked, the expression fleeting before she spoke again.

"How many US Senators are there, Stark? Quickly now," the harpy said, tapping her wristwatch.

Tony groaned internally, because he was really tired of these stupid fucking games. But he had to make a show of an attempt at mental math, before writing a shaky 98 up on the board.

A few snickers rose up behind him, and Tony knew it was mostly Hammer & Co., but there were others. He glanced back at Rhodey and Pepper, who looked ready to come up and defend him. Rhodey had a hand on Pepper's arm, and Tony was pretty sure she was ready to go to Fury and demand that Ms. Hill stop playing favorites.

"Wrong, Stark," Hill said, her voice filled with glee. "How many representatives are there, not including Senators?"

Hatred fill Tony's chest, because this woman was cruel. She was cruel and vindictive, and Tony despised playing this role. But when he allowed visions of the dead and dying to overcome him, he was reminded why he was doing this.

He considered being spiteful, but decided to err on the side of caution, with a hint of mischief thrown in. He raised his marker and scribbled 535, which was most definitely wrong, but caused Ms. Hill to peer at him in suspicion.

"Also wrong, Stark. Have a seat."

Tony shuffled back to his desk, ignoring the jeers and calls for Tony to join his 'Special Ed' friends. Pepper touched his hand as he walked by, and Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder before they turned to their notebooks. Tony dragged his out and pretended to write, but instead drew a vaguely demonic looking cat and scribbled _GATO!_ underneath.

Settling in his seat, Tony hated the fact that theirs was the last lunch shift. They endured an entire hour and a half of Ms. Hill's lecturing before they all rushed out the door as the lunch bell rang. Tony both loved and hated lunch, as it was always a free for all.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! As always, reviews are welcome! I adore hearing from everyone, and Tony would sure appreciate some love._


	4. Pudding and Asphalt

**A/N:** Hello everyone! I had to fight FFN to get this chapter posted. This chapter is 100% the beginning into Angstville. At least you can enjoy Darcy being a good bro. Things are going downhill from here, so watch for warnings in the author's notes. Tony is just going to get more and more miserable, and I hope everyone can enjoy the trip on the SS Tony Feels.

All that aside, Tony and I wanted to thank you for all the favorites and follows! It does his sad little heart good to hear your worry over his suffering. He suggests you continue to follow/review, because it makes him happy(ish). Makes me happy too c:

As always, big thank you to my beta **BigTimeHiddlestoner**!  
Updates on Fridays or Saturdays!

**Warnings**: Violence/A bit of blood

* * *

After the lunch bell rang, Tony hung back with Rhodey and Pepper, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder while waiting for his friends to finish gathering their things.

Ms. Hill was watching them from her corner, perched on the edge of her desk. She smiled at Pepper and Rhodey as they walked out the door, then scowled as soon as their backs were turned. The look she gave Tony was one of pure loathing, and Tony knew it would be within his best interests to get going before he was dragged across Fury's welcome mat for the fifth time that month .

He hoped that they'd given Hammer & Co. enough time to chase down lunch, and was right when he stepped out into a mostly empty hallway, save for Pepper and Rhodey.

"Man, Hill's got it out for you," Rhodey stated once they were out of earshot of the classroom.

"It's not fair, Tony. Why don't you report her to Fury? She's never humiliated anyone else like that," Pepper protested, bumping shoulders with Tony.

Tony shrugged, taking care as they came to a stairwell.

"She's not the first, and she won't be the last. I'm just that kind of guy," Tony replied, his words full of false bravado.

Rhodey said nothing, waiting until they were at the bottom of the stairs to ruffle his hair.

"Whoa, not the 'do, Platypus. Anything but that," Tony complained, batting Rhodey's hands away.

The cafeteria was abuzz with the last round of students for the day. They were all clamoring to get a spot in line, and there was plenty of shoving and attempts to cut. Tony didn't actually have any money to eat with (credit cards weren't accepted in high school cafeterias), so he followed Pepper to their usual table. Pepper packed lunch everyday, and saved her lunch money to use on things like shoes and shit. Tony would never understand, but he didn't begrudge her preferences.

Occasionally, Darcy Lewis would crash at their table while her best friend Jane Foster was sucking face with Thor. Tony really liked Darcy, because she was a smartass and could snark with the best of them. Darcy was already sitting at their table, looking disgusted with life as she stabbed her plastic fork into a tray of spaghetti with a vengeance.

"Is Jane off with Thor again?" Pepper asked, sitting down across from Darcy. She pulled out her lunchbox (pink) and began pulling out a carton of yogurt, a bag of carrots, peppers, and celery, and then a sandwich which Tony knew to be chicken salad, because Mondays were always chicken salad.

Darcy grumbled something unintelligible, taking a vicious bite of her spaghetti before answering. She wiped at her face with napkin, adjusting her glasses with a scowl.

"Yes. Damned traitor. She and the other dopes are all eating in the senior lounge."

"But they're not seniors!" Pepper protested while carefully peeling off the top of her yogurt carton. She pulled out a spoon and mixed it, then took a bite while waiting for Darcy to work herself into a tirade.

"They've got 'connections'," Darcy growled in a wheedling tone, making air quotations.

"Namely one Loki Odinson," Tony offered as he dropped down next to Darcy. "That little shit knows how to get into every nook and cranny in this school."

"Little fucker," was all Tony heard in between bites of garlic bread.

Tony pulled out his own sandwich and apple, silently thanking Sarah Rogers for her sainthood. Somehow, she managed to make peanut butter and jelly taste like heaven, and the apples she bought were always delicious. Rhodey popped up at Tony's elbow, dropping an extra carton of chocolate milk on the table before sitting next to Pepper.

Rhodey and Pepper shared a brief kiss, ignoring Darcy and Tony's gagging noises, before they both turned back to their lunches. Rhodey had opted for a ham and cheese sub (on extra healthy wheat bread, because the Jr. ROTC and various team sports had standards), and a fruit cup. Rhodey was always chill enough to get Tony a carton of chocolate milk, and seemed to know that being a 'rich kid' wasn't actually working out for Tony.

"You guysh are disgushstin'," Tony said around a mouthful of PB&J. Darcy punched him in the arm, brandishing her fork at him.

"Don't talk with your mouthful, Anthony. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

Tony swallowed his bite and took a drink of chocolate milk, then leveled Darcy with a serious stare.

"No."

Darcy opened her mouth to retort, then faltered. The table suffered an awkward silence, before Tony took another swig of chocolate milk.

"I won't be waiting with you guys for the bus today. I gotta stay late with Dr. B."

Pepper rolled her eyes, leaning against Rhodey while picking through her bag of veggies. Rhodey huffed out a breath in amusement, before taking a bite of his sub.

"How in the hell did you score afterschool with Banner?" Darcy asked, eyeing Tony over the rims of her glasses. She'd finished off her spaghetti and was working on her pudding cup, offering a bite to Tony before he replied. Tony wrapped his lips around the spoon, relishing the sweet taste for a moment before he licked off the remaining bit. Darcy finished the rest on her own, unconcerned about the sharing, then shot Tony a look that said, 'I'm waiting'.

Tony shrugged, covering a yawn with a hand.

"I came to class right at the bell. Called him 'Dr. B', because I know how much he secretly likes it. I didn't take notes. I zoned out during an in-class quiz. Shall I go on?" Tony snarked, balling up the baggie his sandwich came in and lobbing it to the nearest trash can, making a _fwish_ noise when it went in.

He turned back to the table, starting when he realized they were all staring at him. Pepper had her 'Mildly Exasperated With Tony's Existence' face on, Rhodey sporting 'Amused Incredulity/Tony You Jackass' and Darcy was all out leering, leaving Tony to wonder if he'd be dragged out of his shop class for a little bit of fun behind the bleachers.

"Man, no wonder you've got to stay late. Good luck with that," Rhodey offered, starting on his fruit cup.

Tony feigned nonchalance as he bit into his apple, humming appreciatively. In reality, staying after school meant that Tony would miss his bus. The driver wasn't allowed to come get him, so Tony would be stuck walking. It meant he'd be getting home after dark, with no time to do homework or work on his project. He kept his grimace of displeasure to himself, and instead finished his apple and then his chocolate milk.

"No big, Sour Patch. Dr. B is totally chill, when he's not smashing up the lab and freshmen. I'll make up the work and head on home. Life will go on."

Darcy snickered, tossing her empty pudding cup onto her foam tray, picking up Tony's apple core and dropping it on top.

"Throw away my trash, slave," she said archly, shoving the tray towards Tony. He wrinkled his nose, but swung his legs off the bench anyways. Darcy was one girl he took care not to piss off. The rumors about the taser she carried in her purse were definitely based on fact.

Dropping the tray in the trash, Tony was completely unprepared for the crack against the side of his skull that sent him staggering to the right. He pressed his palm against his left temple, vision swimming as he applied pressure. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his face, and when he looked down he saw a dirty napkin and a piece of asphalt from the school parking lot.

The entire cafeteria had fallen silent, but Tony knew where to look. Hammer & Co. were sitting in the middle of the cafeteria, all looking far too innocent. Hammer appeared shocked, but his mouth was fighting a smirk. Amora was hiding her smile behind a hand, and the glint in Ty Stone's eyes told Tony all he needed to know.

The Blond Trio looked mildly disturbed on their side of the room, and Tony hoped they felt fucking guilty. They were just as bad as the others sometimes, and he prayed his blood made them feel queasy. He swung back around to face his friends, lightheaded and his steps unsure. Rhodey was at his elbow, pressing a napkin to Tony's head, his voice slightly panicked.

"Tones? You okay, man?"

"Mmm...yeah. Totes okay," Tony slurred. His head was pounding, and he couldn't really see straight. If he knew anything, he knew that he wouldn't be making out with Darcy Lewis during fourth period. Guys with head wounds weren't cool.

"Alright," Pepper declared. "We're going to the nurse's office. Jim, can you go and speak with an administrator? Darcy, grab Tony's backpack."

Tony knew it was serious if Darcy went without complaining. Rhodey passed him off to Pepper, then jogged off to deliver some justice. There were plenty of witnesses, and the cafeteria had cameras. Even if they weren't punished severely, Tony took some measure of comfort from knowing they'd get in trouble.

Groaning, Tony allowed Pepper to lead him, disturbed when he had to swap out his blood soaked napkin with a fresh one.

"Whoa, Stark. That's gross," Darcy snarked. "That's like, a biohazard. Keep that shit to yourself."

"Shut your trap, Lewis," Tony muttered. "I am injured."

"No excuse to be a slob," she replied archly.

Tony's reply was cut off when they arrived outside of the nurse's office, and he was pushed into a chair. Pepper and Darcy shuffled off to the side, leaving Mrs. Carter, the school nurse, to fret over Tony. He ended up in the nurse's office more often than most, and he liked to think they had a good rapport going.

"Goodness, Tony! What have you been up to? I hope this wasn't from gym again!"

"Nah, Mrs. C. I think it was a rock. Somehow my head found it and they became friends," Tony murmured, his smile goofy and his gaze far off.

"Always getting into something," Mrs. Carter clucked, pulling the napkin away from the cut. She tossed it in a biohazard bin (Darcy's 'Told you so!' was a little on the loud side.)

"Mmm. I just like your company, Mrs. C."

Mrs. Carter smiled fondly, patting Tony's unbloodied cheek a few times before turning away to gather gauze and peroxide. She cleaned out the cut with peroxide, dabbing at it with gauze while it foamed. She cleaned the blood off the side of his face, and inspected the cut while it bled sluggishly.

Tsk'ing, she bustled back to the cabinet and found a box of butterfly bandages, then set about closing the wound a bit. Tony hissed a few times, grumbling and growling. Darcy's hand on his shoulder and Pepper's on his knee kept him grounded, and reminded him not to start cussing Mrs. Carter.

"It's a nasty cut, and your face will probably be fifty shades of purple, yellow, and green," she said with a chuckle, as if her joke was funny. "But it won't need stitches. Would you like some aspirin for the pain?"

Tony hummed in thought, weighing his options. Chances were, he'd make it to his bus well enough, and could stumble back to the mansion with little incident. He'd just need to dodge Banner. If the aspirin could take the edge off, why not?

"Yes please, Mrs. C," Tony replied, snickering at the pitiful excuse for a rhyme. The nurse's smile was still fond (Tony could totally tell) as she got the pill bottle out of a cabinet, and shook two pills into her palm, offering them to him with a cup of water that Darcy had so helpfully filled up. Making a show of sniffing it to upset his friend, Tony gave up joking and tossed the two pills back, whining when it made his head spin.

"I'm not letting you out of here until your dizziness has abated, Tony," Mrs. Carter said in her sternest tone. She secretly loved him, of that he was sure, so he knew he could wheedle his way out at some point. But still, the better part of valor and whatever had him nodding slowly.

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Carter looked surprised at his quick agreement, but she didn't comment, instead turning to Pepper and Darcy. "You two girls need to go on to class. Tony will be fine with me."

Pepper and Darcy shared a look, and Tony would have given anything to know how the female mind worked, but he didn't get any insight when they came to a silent agreement.

"Alright, Mrs. Carter," Pepper said, her voice full of that ginger charm that world on practically everyone. "Thank you very much for patching him up. We know he's a handful."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Carter tittered, waving them off. "Now get. You still have time to go get your things before the bell."

Darcy moved in front of him, pressing a kiss to an unbandaged portion of his forehead. "See ya later, Bleachers. Your time will come soon enough."

"Aw, man," Tony grumbled, quieting when Pepper's hand cupped the uninjured side of his face. Her hand was cool, and he had never loved her more (in a totally platonic way).

"Be good, Tony. Listen to , and please be careful."

Tony didn't nod again, because it would make him dizzy. So he settled on raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Me? Not careful? I think you're mistaking me with some other kid."

Seeing her frown, Tony covered her hand with his, smiling in earnest. "I'll be careful, Pep. Promise."

Pepper nodded, then ushered Darcy out of the room, stopping her from stealing Mrs. Carter's stash of lollipops. Mrs. Carter checked on his bandage one more time before moving into her office, leaving Tony to sit on the cot and lean against the wall behind him, trying to regain his equilibrium before the fourth period bell rang.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are more than welcome!_


	5. Violate

**A/N:** Hello everyone!

Happy August! I am posting this from my new laptop, Nicholas J. Fury. Nicholas J. Fury is new and shiny and I love him very much. His codename is Leaf Corduroy, if anyone was wondering.

This is a double update weekend! Follow to see the next update which will post up in a day or two! (Most likely Saturday.) In regards to reviews...I love them. Tony gives them a passing wave on his way to Angstville. He kinda likes them too. He also nods appreciatively at kudos. Give the boy some love, especially after this chapter (and the next).

**Warnings**: Non-graphic sexual assault; unwanted groping. Take care, in case it triggers anyone

* * *

Tony strolled into Dr. Banner's classroom after he left the nurse's office. Mrs. Carter had wanted to keep him until school ended, but Tony knew Dr. Banner's fourth period was free, and he would miss his bus if he wasn't careful (and walking home really fucking sucked, let alone with a head injury).

He was only a little woozy as he knocked on the door, sighing in relief when Dr. Banner's voice called out, "Come in!"

The chemistry teacher looked up as he walked in, eyes widening in alarm at the ridiculous amount of bandages wrapped around Tony's head. He moved to stand up, but Tony waved him off.

Tony grinned, but didn't meet his teacher's eyes.

"Smacked my head on some pavement. No stitches though. Sorry, it won't be enough to keep me from bothering you next class," he said with a shrug, feeling a pang of hurt in his chest at the idea of Dr. Banner being grateful of Tony's absence.

Something flickered in Dr. Banner's expression, almost like a twitch, but the older man just shook his head ruefully.

"Of course I want you in class, Anthony. I just wish you'd pay better attention."

Tony shrugged his shoulders, his head pounding around the dose of Tylenol he'd choked down in Mrs. Carter's office.

"Sorry, Dr. B," he muttered, studying the tile under his sneakers.

He glanced up to watch Dr. Banner shake his head, then rifle through his drawers until he found the makeup quiz. Dr. Banner was wearing his Disappointed Scientist face as he handed the quiz over.

"Please do your best and read the chapter carefully. Your grade can't take too many more hits like these, and I can only accommodate you so much."

Lifting one shoulder in reply, Tony shuffled a slow retreat to his desk. He had forgotten his book in his rush to not bleed to death from his head wound, and there weren't any extras stuffed in shelves or abandoned on the workstation in the back. Fiddling with the paper for a moment, Tony glanced over to make sure Dr. Banner was preoccupied. Once he was satisfied that his teacher's attention was elsewhere, Tony quickly filled out the quiz. It was easy, and he caught Dr. Banner's sneaky atomic number question at the end, smirking as he circled the last multiple choice answer.

It was kind of satisfying, answering all the questions correctly.

His head was still pounding, so he didn't want to linger for much longer in the classroom. Getting up and shouldering his bookbag, Tony walked his quiz over to Dr. Banner.

"Anything else, Dr. B?"

The chemistry teacher looked at the quiz on his desk, shifting his glasses higher on his nose with a small frown.

"No. Just try to pay more attention next time. I'd rather not have to move you out of my class," he warned, hazel eyes reflecting the no-nonsense tone he'd adopted.

Tony nodded, instantly regretting it as the pounding increased in tempo. Gritting his teeth, he flashed a strained smile.

_(Stark men are made of iron.)_

"Thanks, Dr. B. I'll see you next class."

Upon leaving the classroom, Tony took a moment to breathe. He was tired, and he ached everywhere, and he wanted to go moment was ruined when something heavy slammed into him from behind, and he went crashing to the floor.

He hit the tile hard, groaning as his head ached and a searing pain lanced down his spine.

"What the fuck?!" He growled, tilting his head back to see Justin Fucking Hammer sneering down at him. Hammer very rarely bullied alone, so it stood to reason that his cronies had gotten stuck in ISS for the asphalt incident.

"I don't know why you keep coming back, Stark. We're just going to keep up this little game, and you're always gonna lose. Do us all a favor and stay home."

Hammer hauled Tony up by his arm (who would have thought the fucker would have the strength?) and dragged him to the nearest set of lockers, slamming him up against them. Tony would have protested the padlock digging into his kidneys, but Hammer chose that moment to disregard Tony's personal space bubble.

"I know you make pretty birdhouses in woodshop, Tony," Hammer said, his tone conversational. "But that's just about all you're good for. I'm getting tired of you hanging around, skating on your daddy's money and acting like you're better than us," he declared, patting Tony's cut temple harder than necessary while wearing a cheery smile.

Tony couldn't help but whine in pain, jerking his head away.

"What the fuck, Hammer. Don't fucking touch me," Tony snarled.

"Word on the street is that you've slept with half the school," Hammer mused. He was still very much creeping in on Tony's space, and it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"And your mom," Tony spat.

Hammer's body jerked a bit, but he continued on with his act, ignoring Tony's outburst.

"I happen to know that's an exaggeration, and where your preferences lean," he murmured, insinuating a knee between Tony's legs.

Hammer pressed up against him in all the wrong ways, and Tony's mind stuttered and froze. His breathing became labored as anxiety set in, and he began to struggle in earnest.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME, HAMMER!" Tony snarled, grunting when Hammer pressed closer still.

The contact was unwanted, and it felt like Hammer's hands were all over him, until they weren't. That's when Tony saw Dr. Banner bodily hauling Hammer down the hallway. His knuckles were white where they were fisted in Hammer's shirt, and there was something dangerous about him as he dragged Hammer into Principal Fury's office.

Scientist Smash indeed.

Snapping out of his stupor, Tony dropped to his knees, trying to pick up the mess that was his spilled bookbag. His hands shook as he grabbed notebooks, making it nearly impossible to work the zipper. The tremors pissed him off, so he started a low chant of "Stark men are made of iron" to bolster his confidence, but in reality he just felt like shit.

A pair of hands with a darker complexion appeared in Tony's peripheral vision, landing on a notebook near his right knee. Tony jerked away, reeling backwards until he was pressed up against the lockers again.

Dr. Banner moved to crouch in front of him, expression concerned as he carefully kept his hands to himself, and visible.

"What was that you were saying?" He asked, his voice low and reassuring, leaving Tony grateful he wasn't asking about the most obvious fucking thing he could have.

"What? Oh...uh...'Stark men are made of iron', " he recited sheepishly.

"Company motto?"

"Family motto. My father...Starks are supposed to be made of tougher stuff."

"Strength isn't always measured by what you're made of," Dr. Banner murmured, his expression sickeningly understanding when Tony looked up at him.

"Desirability is measured in quantifiability," Tony snapped, struggling to his feet. He had to blink back tears when his head started aching again. He'd almost forgotten about the injury in lieu of getting molested by an asshole.

Dr. Banner's expression switched to Confused Scientist, probably because his boring, unwanted specimen was acting outside of normal parameters. Tony couldn't give a fuck, though. He'd probably slipped up more than he could afford to, but all he wanted to do was go home.

"Are you alright, Anthony?" He asked, peering closely as if he were looking for something specific.

Not up to falling under Dr. Banner's microscope, Tony grabbed his bookbag (thoughtfully repacked by his chemistry teacher) and got to his feet. He swayed a little bit from a tidal wave of dizziness, but managed to stay standing.

"Fine. Never better. Thanks for...that thing you did," Tony quipped, making vague gestures with one hand. "I gotta go, though. Can't miss my bus or I'd be screwed. See you next class, Dr. B."

Turning, Tony didn't wait for a reply before striding down the hallway more confidently than he felt. His chest was tight, and he wished that his parents were home, if only so that Jarvis could sneak him cookies. His mom would steal away from her sitting room and stroke his hair, and things would be okay for awhile.

The final bell ringing shattered Tony's daydream, and he could only trudge to the bus loading zone and pray that the driver was running on time.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are love!_


	6. Abuse

**A/N:**Yo. I'm half asleep, and totally meant to post this earlier. My bad. *yawns* But, I promised an update, and so I shall deliver.

This chapter is a little heavy. I've been breaking my beta's heart with updates. Hopefully you all will make it through to the other side. I have faith in all of you. Feel free to comment about your woe. I'll be here for you. (Tomorrow. I'm going to bed now.)

Beta'd by the lovely **BigTimeHiddlestoner**

**Warnings:** Graphic depictions of child abuse. Please take care.

* * *

After the 'Chunk of Asphalt Meet Tony's Head' incident, Tony skipped school on Tuesday. His pride had taken a hit, and he figured he could take a day to lick his wounds and sift through his makeup work later. He'd been ignoring Pepper and Rhodey's texts, but he'd fielded a call from Darcy to reassure that he wasn't dead in his 'manse of opulence'.

He was well into sleeping the day away when he felt the rumble of the automatic garage door shaking the entire east wing. His father did a lot of his work in the garage/lab, so their garage was monstrous, and made a lot of racket no matter where you were in the house, but especially the east wing where Tony slept.

"Oh shit," Tony groaned into his pillow, clenching his sheets tightly while he mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of his father.

He had stayed in bed for the most part, changing his bandages per Mrs. Carter's instructions, and was generally trying to behave. The house was immaculate, because he only spent time in his room and the less used workshop in the maintenance shop out back. He'd already cleared his projects from the maintenance shop, and it wasn't his job to dust, so he knew that there wouldn't be any flak for that.

That didn't mean he was prepared for the heavy pounding on his door, and his father's yell reverberating through the wood.

"Anthony! Get your ass out here and explain the phone call I got from that school I spend good money on!"

_Fuck._

Rolling out of bed, Tony changed his shirt and straightened his hair as best he could around the bandages. Finding a pair of passable jeans, he skipped shoes entirely and took a deep breath. He was so screwed. So fucking screwed. Taking a brief moment to consider texting Pepper or Darcy his will, Tony nixed the idea and stepped out of his room.

Already knowing where to go, Tony let his feet carry him down the hall and a back set of stairs to the ground floor, where his father's study was tucked between the library and the entrance to the garage. His father was seated in his leather high back, sorting through a large stack of mail with one hand, nursing a tumbler of scotch in the other. None of these bode well for Tony.

Howard Stark had a routine for when he returned from his travels. First, he would drive home in one of his cars (a horribly expensive, beautiful piece of machinery that was a strict no touchy-touchy in Tony's case), and leave his luggage with Jarvis and Maria, if they were with him.

He'd pick up his mail at the guard house, and head to the mansion. Upon parking his car, he'd make sure that Tony hadn't meddled in his lab, and would then go into his study and settle in with an old label and his old war photo albums.

More often than not, Tony was called in for god knows what (he'd breathed too loudly once), and was left standing facing the corner. It was the same introduction to his punishment that he'd been receiving since he was four years old and being punished for sneaking into the lab.

It could be hours before Howard felt the need to acknowledge his son, and he would go on about business as if Tony weren't even there. Sometimes, he'd even have business associates meet him in the office, and they'd talk and chat as if Tony wasn't standing in the corner, harboring an intense urge to pick up a desk lamp and start swinging.

The record for the corner was five hours, but Tony figured it wouldn't take more than an hour before Howard broke and decided to ream him out for all of his character flaws and then some.

Tony walked over the threshold, moving to the corner and standing, falling into parade rest. His six years at a military academy (during the scandal of his non-existent intellect) had left him with a habit of standing at attention. It was unfortunate that Howard derived a perverse pleasure at seeing Tony retain a sense of discipline for more than five minutes at a time, and would throw something if Tony slouched.

Howard only spent another forty five minutes perusing his mail, and was distressingly less sober than Tony would have hoped. Tony stared at the wainscoting on the wall, tracing lines and charting the angles, trying not to jump when his father broke the silence.

"What, exactly, is wrapped around your head?"

"Bandages, sir."

"Why?"

"I cut my temple, sir. Asphalt."

"How?"

"I tripped, sir."

His father fell silent, and out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see him tracing a finger around the rim of his glass before taking a hearty swig.

"Front and center, Anthony."

Tony was quick to obey, standing in front of his father's desk with a niggling feeling of trepidation settling in his stomach. This wasn't going to end well.

"Don't lie to me, Anthony," his father murmured, voice deceptively level.

"I didn't…"

"Your school called my cell phone, Anthony. I dislike being interrupted while I'm on business."

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know they had a reason to call," Tony reasoned. Why the fuck would they call in the first place?

"Do you recall how I treat liars under this roof?"

Tony flinched back, not liking where this was going. The last time Howard accused him of lying, Tony went to the hospital with a broken arm from 'falling down the stairs'.

"Yes, sir."

"Your school called first to inform me you had been injured by a chunk of asphalt thrown across your cafeteria. Were you aware of this?"

"…Yes, sir," Tony ground out.

"I don't appreciate being lied to, Anthony," his father said, and Tony could see the shift. There was something else, he just didn't know what.

"I apologize, sir. I didn't think it was worth bothering you with."

"It matters a great deal, Anthony. I got a second call. Saying some kid groped you in the hallway and you might be 'emotionally compromised'," Howard spat, a bit of spittle falling on his blotter.

Tony paled then swallowed hard. He hadn't anticipated the school calling about that shit. Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone?!

"Did you like that queer feeling you up, Anthony? Did you like it when he pressed you up against the lockers, hands all over you, ready to put the Stark name to shame?" He asked, brown eyes glinting dangerously in the low lamplight.

Tony figured this would be a horrible time to say, _Dad, I think I'm bisexual. Just thought you should know._

"No, sir."

"Do you know what you are, Anthony?"

Sighing internally, Tony straightened a bit, shoulders back. Time for The Faults.

"Stupid. Useless. A disappointment," Tony recited dutifully, the words the same as they had always been. At least he didn't take them too personally anymore.

"We'll add embarrassment to that list. You are truly an embarrassment to this family," Howard snapped.

He gave Tony an expectant look, and Tony had to count to five so that he wouldn't try and strangle his old man.

"I am stupid. I am useless. I am a disappointment. I am an embarrassment," Tony repeated, his eyes burning with tears that would never fall, and his jaw aching from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

Howard hummed, downing the rest of his scotch and pouring another from the decanter. Tony could tell his father was looking to get wasted. He knew he'd be involved when Howard stood up and walked around his desk.

With a twisted sense of gentleness, Howard unwrapped the bandages from Tony's head, peering under the patch of gauze over the wound itself. Making a small, noncommittal noise, Howard peeled the gauze pad away and tossed it, with the bandages, into his trash can.

Tony was very careful not to move or make any sound, concentrating on the bookshelf behind his father's desk to keep his focus.

That focus was exactly why Tony was unaware of his father's backhand flying at his face. He felt the familiar splitting of skin from his father's MIT ring, and managed to catch himself on the far corner of the desk before he smashed his face into it.

Tony knew there was a reason he hated being on the small side as his father hauled him around, landing a vicious jab to the right side of his face 'for good measure'.

Black eye? Check.

Blood? Check.

Patricide plans? In Progress.

"You are still a Stark, no matter how useless you may be," Howard spat. "But I pay good money to keep you out of the papers, so you damn well better keep your fucking nose clean when I'm not around. Do you understand me?"

Tony nodded, biting his lip to keep from spitting blood at his father.

"Yes, sir," he ground out eventually, hands clenched at his sides.

Howard returned to his chair and his scotch, an unspoken cue for Tony's dismissal. With that Tony left his father's study, seething and in pain and lifting silent prayers to a god he didn't believe in to make the next two years pass quickly.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews welcome!_


	7. Dodgeball

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who favorited/followed! Hope you all enjoy this chapter, which is pretty much 100% Tony angst.

****EDIT**: FFN has not been letting me update Passing Grade. Please go to my profile page and click the "Roodles" link next to AO3 in order to read the most update version of Passing Grade. **

**Thanks!**

**Warnings: **Mild Violence/Bullying

* * *

Tony went to school the next day via taxi cab. He was lucky they took his card number over the phone (though he'd be watching his account to see if they overcharged him.) He couldn't bear to see Ms. Rogers' face when he showed his black and blue mug on the bus, so he was going to prolong it for as long as possible.

The cabbie gave a low whistle when Tony crawled into the backseat after his bookbag, but didn't remark any further on his split lip, black eye, and cut cheek (Tony had vowed to get that fucking MIT ring melted down and sold).

He got to school on time, and for once didn't go to Mr. Yinsen's classroom before first period. His father had warned him that if there were any more phone calls, the result would not be pleasant. Tony had the feeling that it would be within his best interest to behave and not call attention to himself.

When the bell rang, Tony actually went to gym, which he shared with the Blond Trio and a few other people who didn't tend to make his life hell. His clothes were in his locker, as clean as the day he'd bought them because he never bothered to dress out. Tossing his slip ons into his locker, Tony pulled out a pair of bright red and gold basketball shoes (Howard couldn't say a damned thing about shoes he would never see) and set them aside.

He felt like an emo kid, dressed in Shield High's all black uniform, only broken by silver stripes down the sides of the shirt and shorts, and the eagle rampant emblem on the left breast.

Tony really hated gym. It wasn't that Tony was completely inept or unfit. He had excellent hand eye coordination and worked out at home. Engineers did some heavy lifting, and it paid to be fit. He analysed sports with the same efficiency that he took to his coding, and it paid off whenever he hit the betting pools behind the bleachers at games.

Gym was horrible for one main reason: it made Tony feel exposed. Forced to hide in a mindless herd of black-clad sheep with no form of cover. And he had to run. That was bullshit. Running should have been reserved for when his dad was chasing him with a wrench, not for the sadistic pleasure of a gym teacher.

Still, he grudgingly trudged to the open gym area, where most of his classmates were already talking and milling about. It was fortunate that only one of Hammer's cronies shared Tony's gym period, and Doom wasn't too bad on his own. He only got Crazy Eyes when hanging out with Hammer, and tended to leave Tony alone.

When Romanov blew the whistle, the entire class fell into line almost instantly. (She was scary as fuck.) They began their warm up jog around the gym, five laps of drudgery that put Tony in a bad mood. Thor, being the ridiculous giant that he was, cheerfully loped ahead of everybody else, his bulk masking a long stride that ate up the gym floor. Steve and Clint made a game of racing. Once or twice, Tony felt someone shove him out of the way as Steve and Clint passed by, but Tony refrained from tripping the fuckers. Sainthood was yet within his grasp.

After the warm ups, Romanov gleefully announced they would be playing dodgeball, or something like it. Romanov's weird ass version had goalies and it didn't really make sense to call it dodgeball at that point. Once the teams were divided, Thor and Clint were sent to one side of the gym, while Steve and Tony went to the other. Tony was unanimously voted for goalie, because their team didn't really care about winning; seeing Tony's impending abject humiliation would be victory enough.

Gritting his teeth as he shuffled behind the three point line and into the key (the goal was a set of black mats mounted on the wall behind the basketball hoop), Tony made the decision to not suck. Normally he played 'clumsy failure' and was relegated to the sidelines, but he was fed up. They wanted to try and humiliate him? Fine. He'd shove that dodgeball so far up their asses they'd be tasting rubber for weeks.

Steve was shooting him concerned puppy dog looks from his position in defense, acting as if he were actually concerned. It pissed Tony off, because while Rogers had never actively participated in Tony's bullying, he'd never really stopped it either. Thank you, Mister Class President.

Romanov blew her whistle, looking positively gleeful. Tony theorized that she got off on her students' pain, and thoroughly enjoyed their fruitless contests for supremacy.

"Alright! First team to twenty points wins. No headshots, body checking, full body tackles, or conscious physical violence! If I see it, you're out for the game, and you get a 'F' for the day. Good luck and don't suffer too much!"

Tony stared at her, mouth agape as she brought the dodgeball to center court. What in the ever loving fuck. Thor and this guy named Hank Pym (Tony could never really peg his height. Sometimes he swore the guy wore platform shoes) faced each other, ready for Romanov's tip off. Thor, by virtue of solid European breeding and his own freakish genetics, got the ball and passed it to Clint, who was already halfway down the court. The guy zipped in and out of sight, finally reappearing to catch the ball straight out of fucking midair. Taking his maximum of three steps, Clint passed to pivoted in front of the goal just in time to see Doom's expression before he got a face full of dodgeball. Ah. There were the Crazy Eyes.

Agony washed over him, white exploding in his vision as he staggered backward into the mats, holding his face and taking gasping breaths.

For the fucking love of-

Romanov blew her whistle and sentenced Doom to a period on the bleachers. He didn't look too repentant, sneering at Romanov's back as she walked over and pried Tony's hands away from his face. He wanted to bristle at the pity in her gaze, but he let it go and let his shoulders slump at the white and black dots receded from his vision.

"Will you make it?" She asked, not unkindly.

"Yeah. Though the next person to fuck with me is gonna get it," Tony quipped, completely serious.

"Good to hear."

She patted him on the shoulder, then whistled for the game to resume. Tony picked up the ball, eyeing his options. There was a clear line to Steve, Pym, and then Janet van Dyne, Pym's girlfriend. Lobbing the ball, Tony felt a swell of satisfaction as Steve caught it, and then acted as if he'd read Tony's mind. The ball was passed down the line and made its way to Jan's capable hands. She was scary quick and accurate, and had the goal before anyone knew what had happened.

Thor bellowed out that he accepted the challenge, and retrieved the ball from his goalie and sent it flying. Tony tracked the game as it made it back to his goal. Steve tried his best to defend, but Clint was quick, and was back at the three point line with a shit eating grin.

"Can you even catch, Stark?"

Tony didn't reply, already calculating angles, trajectory, and probabilities. Percentages filled his mind and he started planning for any number of scenarios. When Clint drew back and threw the ball (it looked like a solid baseball pitch), Tony slapped it down without a second thought, looking up at Clint with a self-satisfied smirk.

The blond's flabbergasted expression was enough to make the move worth it. Crouching down, Tony picked up the ball and tossed it to Steve, who was looking rather unsettled. Tony gave him a sloppy salute (because he and Rhodey were in Junior ROTC together and Tony liked being an asshole), and returned to his goal box.

Clint jogged away, still looking baffled and confused. The rest of the game passed much the same way. Tony gave a few points, because humans were far more unpredictable than code, but it didn't matter in the long run. Between Pym, Jan, Steve, and some impressive acrobatics from Peter Parker (who always showed up late with weird ass excuses), twenty points came and went. Romanov was enjoying herself, not calling mercy till the score was 25-7 (_sadist sadist sadist_).

Tony wasn't sure how to respond to the pats on the back, or high fives he got from his team. Thor came to join Steve (who had settled on Confused Puppy, eerily similar to Confused Scientist, but with blue eyes), and congratulate Tony.

"Friend Stark! I was unaware you were so skilled in defense! I would have you as a football goalkeeper anyday!"

It took a moment for Tony to translate European Transfer Jargon, and he eventually replied with a small shrug.

"Eh…not too big on team sports, Point Break. But thanks, I guess."

Steve shifted from Confused Puppy to Judgmental Class President in record time, rounding on Tony.

"Have you always been able to do that?" He asked, waving at the goal box.

"Uh…I guess,"Tony shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

"So you mean you've been fucking with us all along, right?" Clint interjected as he jogged back from chatting up Romanov.

"I think it isn't any of your fucking business Barton," Tony snapped.

"I'm curious, Stark. Does that shiner make you feel like a man? Did'ya get in a fight? Did it make you feel macho?" He mocked, reaching out to shove Tony's shoulder.

Tony stumbled back, keenly aware of the roaring in his ears and the feelings of helplessness washing over him. Regaining his footing, Tony straightened his spine, gritting his teeth.

"Don't fucking touch me, Barton," Tony growled.

"What're you gonna do? Beat me up? Doesn't look like you're too good at beating others up."

"Clint," warned Steve, his voice unsure.

"No, Steve. Stark's obviously been fucking with us. If he can play sports, what else can he do? Besides play punching bag, of course."

Clint shoved him again, and something snapped. Whatever was tethering Tony to his self control disappeared, and then he was all over Clint, snarling and punching without clear thought. They hit the gym floor and Tony's knees cracked painfully against the laminate, but all that mattered was wiping that smug fucking expression from Clint's face.

There might have been blood, maybe tears. Tony's voice was hoarse with yelling and his hands were aching and then he was hauled off. He kicked and thrashed in his captor's hold, panicking as sand sun blood explosions filled his mind's eye, and he was trapped in a chair, why couldn't he move, _oh God oh God._

The sensation of ice cold water being splashed in his face snapped him back to reality, leaving him gasping for air. He looked around wildly, heart pounding a mile a minute until he caught sight of Mr. Yinsen. Everything hit him at once; wave after wave of pain that left him dizzy and disoriented. His knees ached, his face ached, fresh scratches on his arms and neck burned. He panicked as he registered a pronounced throb in his hands, looking down to find his knuckles bloody and already bruising.

"Anthony. Look at me."

Tony struggled to bring his gaze up, finding Mr. Yinsen's concerned expression looming in front of him.

"S'Barton okay?" Tony slurred, his tongue thick and his mind sluggish.

"He will be fine. A bloody nose and a bruised ego. The gym floor, on the other hand, might never be the same."

Tony nodded slowly, slumping against the mat where someone had propped him.

"Why did you attack Mr. Barton, Anthony?" Mr. Yinsen asked, his words clear and slow for Tony's benefit.

"I don't…Don't…" Tony struggled, scrunching up his nose as he tried to form the words. "No one else can hit me," he said finally. That sort of made sense.

"Anthony, who else hits you?" Yinsen's voice was calming, and it almost lulled him into a confession. Almost. Until his mental klaxons started wailing. Snapping into alertness, Tony straightened a bit, taking a deep breath to steel himself.

"Just Hammer. But _Stark men are made of iron._"

Mr. Yinsen sighed, looking older than ever as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How did you get the wounds on your face?"

"I fell. I'm pretty clumsy."

"Does falling include the imprint of a ring cut into your face?"

Tony's breath hitched, but he couldn't bear for Yinsen to know his dirty little secret. What happened between the Starks stayed between the Starks.

"It was a very specific fall."

Mr. Yinsen nodded, as if sensing that's all he'd get from Tony.

"Why don't you go get dressed. I'll wait for you, and then we'll go to my office. You can take your lunch there then go to Dr. Banner's classroom for tutoring during fourth period."

Tony nodded, then scrambled to his feet. The gym was empty, and even Romanov had cleared out to give them privacy. He saw a flash of blond hair at the entrance to the hallway, but couldn't really give a damn.

The locker room was just as empty when he went inside, and he wasted no time in changing into his t-shirt and jeans, then washing off the blood from his knuckles and scratches. He switched out his shoes, having no desire to go home and get slapped around for liking red.

The sounds of his classmates yelling over a pickup game of basketball filtered down the hallway leading to the locker rooms, but Tony was comforted in that they were on the other side of the gymnasium partition.

Tony slung his backpack over his shoulder with a grunt, deciding he would avoid packing textbooks for the rest of the year and save his back the trouble. Mr. Yinsen was waiting for him in the hallway, and he guided him past the auxiliary gym, not allowing Tony to flick off the assholes who had their faces pressed to the door, staring at Tony as if he were a freak show.

He still flipped the bird over his shoulder, shuffling after Mr. Yinsen with a low growl. His teacher glanced back at him with an eyebrow raised, which effectively wiped the scowl off of Tony's face. Mr. Yinsen was a badass, and he didn't take any shit, especially Tony's. He constantly challenged Tony to be better, and his efforts weren't wasted. Despite his respect for Mr. Yinsen, Tony was grateful when they reached his classroom and he could dart to his teacher's office while Mr. Yinsen relieved the administrator who'd taken over.

Tony dropped his backpack and retreated to the corner of the room that was hidden from the doorway by several large shelves and a massive drill press. A veritable safe haven, the corner was where Tony let himself create and destroy, building anything he wanted without fear of repercussions from his father, from his teachers, from the world. Mr. Yinsen allowed Tony to _be_, and it was the greatest thing he'd ever experienced.

Sliding down the wall into his little 'nest', Tony looked at the odds and ends strewn about his workspace. He often sat at the counter and soldered or worked on intricate circuitry, and left his coding and brainstorming to a ratty bit of rug that he'd snagged from maintenance. Dummy (the repurposed Roomba) was still docked in his charging station, but was quick to issue a series of clicks and chirps and a jaunty little wave of his arm.

Tony scooted closer, petting Dummy absently while pulling out a tablet from under one of the shelves. He dabbled in lots of tech, especially since he would never touch a weapons spec again, and his tablet was one of his favorites. The bot nudged him, claw flexing curiously as Tony booted up the tablet and started coding. Dummy chirped a few more times and settled his arm on Tony's shoulder, plucking at his hair every so often.

Smiling slightly (Dummy always made Tony smile, somehow), Tony leaned against the wall and lost himself in his programming, eager to make it to his next benchmark. He wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed until someone waved a lunch tray under his nose. Tony would never admit to drooling, but his mouth definitely watered and he didn't even complain about the interruption.

"On your feet, Anthony. I took the liberty of fetching your lunch and informing your friends of your whereabouts. We will eat, chat for a bit, then you'll spend your fourth period with Dr. Banner," Mr. Yinsen explained, not giving Tony a chance to argue.

Scrambling to his feet, Tony blushed when his stomach made itself known, a loud roar in comparison to the hush of Mr. Yinsen's office. Mr. Yinsen was eating pita bread and what Tony guessed was hummus, and a side of baby carrots and other green things Tony would rather avoid. He had a container of Greek yogurt and a water, and Tony had to restrain himself from making a quip about John Stamos.

The lunch tray that he'd brought Tony featured a cheeseburger and french fries, a fruit cup, and a chocolate milk. He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't cry. So what if this was the first real lunch he'd had in months? So what if he depended on Ms. Rogers' charity? So fucking what if Mr. Yinsen was a damned saint disguised as a high school shop teacher.

"Are you going to stare at it, or eat it?"

Tony looked up at Mr. Yinsen, biting his lip and wrestling with what to say.

"It's mine, right? Like, this isn't a joke or anything?"

Mr. Yinsen placed the bit of pita bread he'd been dipping with back in its container, his gaze sharp behind his glasses. His teacher bracketed his arms around his lunch, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward slightly, just enough to betray how interested he was in Tony's question.

"Yes, Anthony. That is your lunch. I bought it for you. What was the last thing you had from the cafeteria?"

"Chocolate milk. And pudding," Tony answered quickly, and honestly. He really hoped Mr. Yinsen would drop the subject. Prayed, even. Squirming in his seat, Tony distracted himself by snatching a fry and popping it in his mouth, barely holding back a moan. Why couldn't he eat that everyday?

"I'd like to talk to you when we don't have as many time constraints, Anthony. As it is, you'll need to eat your lunch quickly, and then I'll walk you to Dr. Banner's classroom."

Tony nodded, not needing to be told twice that he was welcome to eat the food in front of him. He cleared the plate in what felt like record time, full and sated by the time he was finished. Ms. Rogers' sandwiches were good, but it was awesome to eat hot food for once.

He was still slurping his milk when the bell rang, heeding Mr. Yinsen's non-verbal shooing motion to get his stuff and follow. Petting Dummy one last time and shutting down his tablet, Tony grabbed his bookbag and then snatched up his half-empty milk carton on his way out the door.

Whispers and exaggerated hand gestures followed him down the hallway, causing the hair on the back of his neck and arms to stand on end. Shuddering, Tony stuck closer to Mr. Yinsen, breathing a sigh of relief when Dr. Banner's classroom came into view. Mr. Coulson, a guidance counselor with wit as dry as the Sahara and a pain in Tony's ass, walked out of the room just as they arrived, giving them a formal nod before striding away.

Immediately suspicious, Tony slowed his pace, looking around for an escape route.

Then Mr. Yinsen's hand clamped around Tony's arm like a vice, just short of bruising, and Tony was hauled into Dr. Banner's classroom. Huffing out a breath, Tony rubbed his arm for show and turned to face Dr. Banner. Hazel eyes reflected tumult and confusion, and Tony couldn't bear to hold his gaze for very long.

"Anthony, Dr. Banner will see you to your bus this afternoon. Tomorrow, I would like you to come to my office before first period, and we will discuss things from there."

Mr. Yinsen turned to Dr. Banner, smiling.

"Thank you for looking after him, Dr. Banner. Have a good afternoon."

"Same to you, Ho," Dr. Banner called behind him, and Tony had the good sense not to snicker.

Dr. Banner made sure the door was shut, then rounded on him, eyes wild and his mouth set in a grim line.

"Uh…good afternoon, Dr. B?" Tony tried, wincing when a muscle twitched in his teacher's jaw. Tony saw a seat at the front of the classroom that already had a chemistry book open and waiting, assuming (correctly) that Dr. Banner had a plan in mind for his tutoring session.

"Take a seat, Anthony," Dr. Banner murmured, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched Tony go and sit down before following him to the front of the room. The difference in Dr. Banner was almost palpable. A subtle shift had occurred, and Tony was in awe. Where his teacher once slumped and wrung his hands, another man had taken his place.

Standing straight gave Dr. Banner another inch or two, and it filled out his frame. Tony realized that Dr. Banner was _pissed_, and was instantly on alert, ready to bolt if necessary. He didn't know where that latent rage was going to be directed, and he didn't care to be there if it happened.

"Anthony, why did you miss my class today?"

"I was in gym class, sir….or, I was. I got held over."

Dr. Banner looked him over, lingering on his face, seemingly absorbing every cut and bruise he had. Tony shrank into his seat, feeling as exposed as he did in gym class, not wanting his teacher to criticize him for his appearance or call him out on fights he didn't start.

"Did you receive those injuries in gym class?"

Tony figured he couldn't lie on that one; Dr. Banner had a weird knowledge of bruises and healing times on minor wounds.

"No, sir."

Another twitch in Dr. Banner's jaw.

"Is it your intention to be disrespectful, Anthony? If so, we can go straight to Principal Fury's office and settle this."

Tony flinched back hard enough to send his chair back an inch, panic searing through his nerve endings. His heart skipped a beat as his mind scrambled to parse Dr. Banner's statement. Disrespect? Where the fuck did that come from?! Did he really think Tony was disrespecting him?

Disrespect means punishment. _Stark men are made of iron_.

"No, sir. I don't mean to be disrespectful," Tony said quickly, dropping his head and keeping his forearm up in a halfhearted shield over his abdomen.

"Oh god," Dr. Banner whispered, barely loud enough for Tony to hear, though he could tell his teacher was wrecked.

Tony peeked from under his eyelashes, startling at the visage of Dr. Banner holding himself up by the whiteboard, his shoulders silently shaking. Tony scooted back to the table, a hot flush of shame creeping up his neck at his reaction. Dr. Banner wasn't going to hurt him. If anything, he always saved Tony, even if he didn't know it.

"Anthony," Dr. Banner called, his voice hoarse. "Who hit you?"

"I fell, sir," Tony recited, even as his insides went cold. He wanted to tell everyone how much of a dick his father was, how Tony was always alone, how his father belittled and demeaned him because Tony was 'normal'.

"I see. Why did you get into a fight in gym class?"

"Barton was being an ass," Tony griped, fiddling with the pages of the textbook, not wanting to relive Clint's taunts.

"Have you been purposely getting lower grades than you deserve?"

"Yes," Tony answered absently, still plucking at the pages, closing the front cover to get a look at the publisher, and making a note to correct them about page 343. In the thirty seconds that it took Tony's brain to register his slip up, Dr. Banner had slammed his hands on the desk and was leaning well into Tony's personal space.

"Anthony. Why have you been holding back in my class?"

"Reasons," Tony muttered, looking away. He tried to fidget with the book more, but his teacher took it and slammed it shut, forcing Tony to meet his gaze. It seemed as if betrayal and worry were warring for supremacy in those hazel depths, and Tony had to look away first.

"Today's class was straight from the textbook. Read chapter ten, if you need to," Dr. Banner quipped, his voice flat as he retreated to his desk. Tony glanced over his shoulder, despair settling somewhere between his shoulders and his sternum. It lodged itself there, causing him to bite back a gasp as it took his breath away. He'd gone and disappointed one of the few people that mattered to him.

Good things couldn't last forever, right?

_Stark men were made of iron_.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome!_


End file.
